Musings of an INFJ

I Abhor the Grocery Store

Abhor is such a strong word,
I understand. But it is the closest
to describing how much I dislike the dreaded excursion to the grocery store.

Upon arrival, tussling with the carts sends me into a tizzy. They seemingly twist themselves into a jumbled puzzle of metal only to mess with me as I begrudgingly trudge into the supermarket.

At first, I'm lulled into a sense of calm because I enjoy the aisles with the fruits and veggies. Maybe this place is ok after all, I think to myself...

Filling my cart with a rainbow of different shapes and sizes of fresh produce feels like a culinary adventure. I really love to juice, blend, roast, spiralize, julienne, chop...you name it.  I am creatively inspired by farm-fresh vegetables and fruits.  Maybe this place isn't so bad after all?  With a bounce in my step, I travel further into the store. 

However it's about the bread aisle, bakery, and deli section where my hope starts to deflate like air out blasting out of a giant ballon.  I can easily bypass the bread and bakery; warding off the assault of the smells that attempt to beguile me to buy.  I need less carbs and gluten seems to be my enemy, so I swerve through this area unscathed.  However, looking ahead I view the epic battle I am unsure I can handle. 

I'm referring to the dreaded:  AISLES!
Rows upon rows of towering shelves looming in front of me makes my knuckles go white as I grip the handle of the cart, which is now my new best friend, my support and my protection. 

Unrolling my list, I hope for the best and enter the first row.  Sometimes, even when I know I simply need a can of black beans, I am overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices.  There are so many brands, ranges of prices, and labels to read.  The daunting task of picking a simple item causes a bead of sweat to form on my forehead. 

By this point anxiety starts to creep in. I start to doubt that my journey through this terrible place will end successfully.  I feel as if I'm being manipulated by manufacturers.  Trusting a name brand over a store brand becomes a personal debate inside my brain.  I read the labels on the products like a detective zoning in on potential scams or hazards! Are there secret nefarious ingredients?  What are "natural flavors"?  Is this a GMO food?  Is it preserved with poison?  What are those words?!?!  Oh, please just let me choose the proper item.  The one that will provide sustenance and nourish my family. And not destroy our bodies. 

Often times, I stop at this point and gaze lovingly at the pure simplicity of the organic red leaf lettuce in the front of my cart.  Giving a silent blessing of gratitude for the leaves that give me nutrients. I turn my cart around and realize I don't even need those boxes.

The powdered orange cheese noodles and sugar coated flakes that scream: Buy me! I am Value Priced! I am On Sale!  I will bring you happiness!, lose their appeal and I just walk away.  Grabbing some seeds and nuts will suffice from these middle rows that cause me so much grief. 

Meat poses its own unique source of concern.  My ideal is free-range, organically-fed with no antibiotics or fillers, treated with respect and responsible farm practices which honor the living creatures who sacrifice their lives for my dinner...oh no. Here I go again. Countless choices and questions start to swirl around my brain.  Most of the time I just settle on some free-range chicken breasts and skitter away. 

Dairy is not too exciting, because I know I am nearing the final leg of this supermarket marathon. I do live in Wisconsin, so I put some cheeses in my cart: cheddar, cottage cheese and maybe some cream cheese. Obligatory gallon of milk next and I'm off to the frozen.

Finally, I'm in view of the checkout lanes!  And frozen usually means some more easily chosen fruits and veggies.  My favorite wild blueberries nestled in between some celery in the cart and I dash off for the checkout on weak legs shaking slightly from the rush of adrenalin from anxiety and the stress of the cortisone coursing through my body. I really don't like this place.

Paying for the items is not the best part either.  It seems like there is never an abundance of cash, yet food is an obvious necessity.  I don't mess much with coupons but I hand all the cards and hope for the best.  Which usually means not sweating and showing my pure dismay to the human behind the counter.  Not making much eye contact I am polite and hope to be invisible.  I say thank you and with a neatly packed cart I start counting the steps to my vehicle.  Put the bags in. Push the cart back and FINALLY I'm safe in my car and I can just breathe.  Another harrowing experience at the store is over!  Driving home I strongly consider the grocery delivery service and make a mental note to look into that soon.

I still abhor the grocery store. I'm not sure this will ever change!